


Mental Momentums

by TheNymphNagisa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon Universe, Detention, Dubious Consent, Emptiness, F/M, Fear, I Can't Put Everything Yet cause I've only Three OS prepared, Little moments in life, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Minor Relationships, Poetic, Pointless, Poor Life Choices, Poor Theon, Regret, Sansa and Theon will be the only cute thing I think, Sex, Slow Burn, Theon Greyjoy is a Gift, Theon-centric, Violence, romantic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 16:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNymphNagisa/pseuds/TheNymphNagisa
Summary: Short moments in Theon's life, that might seem unsignificant at first sight, but which actually make a lot of sense to him.It's in general thoughts and emotions on mutliple actions or lack of action. Each part creates a tableau, based on one of Theon's "mental momentum".Chapter 8: Reek experiences public humiliation for the first time, and Theon Greyjoy wants to see his audience dead. (Thramsay, Canon. TW: scars, bruises, nudity)Chapter 9: It's been years since he prevented himself from seeing Him, but today, Theon can't help it. He needs Ramsay back.





	1. And Then He Waits Again

The night is dark outside, the moon looks like a pale ghost behind the curtains of the room, floating in a white dress of light. There is no star, only the flickering flame of the candle. The wax is almost melted. Thick shadows are moving on the walls; it is like a dance in a ritual. 

He can only hear the soft sounds of misery, an old man coughing, coughing his last words, and coughing a plead, coughing again and again, a woman crying, all alone, a squeaky door from the flat upstairs, an owl singning in an old oak, singing to the deads of the graveyard. 

A cruel melody, little sounds that make him jump, that seem forbidden, that seem too loud in the silence. A deep, black silence, like death. Noises are like a thunder. He does not say a word, he does not dare, he does not have the right, or so he thinks. His mouth is dry, almost muchy, he could not say anything anyway. He can not have a glass of water, he can not let the tap water run, it is too noisy. It would be a sign of disrespect, the loud sound of treason, so he can not do anything, the glowing eyes of two burned children would look at him, the shadows would try to caught him with their long, ugly nails, all the deads would drown him, they were waiting outside, in their graves. His mouth is so dry, his tongue feels like a piece of paper, irritating his gums.  
Talking would be a provocation too, as long as He is not here, which is sometimes so long that he thinks He abandoned him, as long as he can not see Him, he remains silent.  
He does not move either. His limbs are paralyzed, he remains petrified on the bed, fixing the ghost in the sky or the flame on the desk, in a state of dreaming, almost hallucinating. Sometimes he would stretch his leg, or fiddle with the button of his pants, holding his breath. He only waits. 

The sunrise caughts him by surprise. It looks like a rubber has erased the ink from the sky, showing a pink bubble of light which makes the room alive again. The flame drowns in the melted wax, a little bit of smoke flies away.  
The sound of a slamming window almost makes him cry out, it is forbidden, if it is too loud, He will think he has been insolent, if they hear it, ghosts will find him. A grey wolf, the spirit of a father, maybe, two children, for sure. He can not make a sound. He keeps on waiting. In a sick, brutal world, it seems like the only thing to do, when violence has replaced their laughs, when daylight seems as cold as night, when the wind has stopped blowing and only inaudible whispers echo in his mind, when the stairs are endless and he can not stop tripping, it seems like the only logical rule by now. So he waits, silent and still, on the matress, warm from his presence.  
Several times, he would get up, walking silently across the bedroom, he would look at the graveyard and the dancing trees, and then glance at the living-room, wondering why He is not here yet. It would only last a few minutes, and he would sit on the bed again, his heart racing.  
Finally, the front door opens, He is here, and He locks it. With a touch of limp, he runs to the living-room and kneels in front of him; He is home, and he is home. And then, he waits. He waits for the first order.


	2. Three words.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little chapter for Halloween ! My girlfriend is Fem!Ramsay and I am Fem!Reek this year and you ?;)  
Anyway ! I am still angry we didn't have any reaction from Theon to Ramsay's death so here it is !

Three words. He can not understand. What does she mean ? 

She keeps on talking. She seemed happy at first, almost excited, and now she looks worried; she looks at him, concerned. He can not hear her. He wants to ask her to repeat, but it is so difficult to open his mouth, it is impossible. Is it her voice ? Is it his eardrums, or his brain ? What is wrong ? What is happening to him ? Why does he feel like dying, again ? Where does the buzzing in his ears come from ? His limbs are paralyzed, as if they have been in cold water for hours. Is it the sea ? Maybe he souldn't have come back home. He swallows his saliva, and that is all he can do. Now she seems angry, furious even, it is his fault, he should apologize, and look at her in the eyes while doing so, because apologies can not be genuine if you don't look the person in the eyes, he knows it, he is a good boy, he learns. But nothing comes out, not a single sound, and she is still outraged. He is scared, he whimpers and tries to hide, hide from her rage, from her punches. So he hides, he hides his face behind his mangled fingers. And then he realises he has been crying the whole time. Why is he crying ? Three words. Drowned god. Three words. He. Is. Dead. It is the only thing he remembers. He is dead. How could it be possible ? He never was powerless, He didn't show any weakness, He never cried, He was a monster: he has always believed He couldn't even bleed like any other human being. And He could died ? It seems impossible, it sounds wrong. His name and the word death were as close as they were distant, because He produced the deads, but He could not die. And now, she tells him that He did ? But how ? And why ? Why is he crying ? After all He did to him, why is he crying as hard as when he has lost his brother, his only friend ? Why is He dead ??? He can not take it, his heart is too fragile, why did they kill his master, the only person that was proud of him ? They killed Him, and now, nobody will like him like He did, nobody will find him any use, he only is the broken toy of a dead body. He died with Him. He died for the second time and he will keep on dying from now on. He should smile. He should be grateful, but he can not, and that is why she is angry. 

He feels sorry for her, and sorry for his master. 

This night, all alone in his bed, he weeps again, he tries to call Him, he tries to call for help, and only the waves answer him. 

Three words. He is dead. 

He died too. But he knows death now, and he will survives. 

Three words. He is dead. 

It feels like an open wound. Hopefully, he is used to it. Wounds always heal. Soon, it will just be another scar on his skin : he will never forget it, but it will be alright. Someday. 

It's just words, afterall. 

Just three words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much !! Have a good day ahahah and eat too much candy if you want to !


	3. Grey dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Alannys Greyjoy is sick, and Theon visits her.

The walls weren't white and bright anymore, as if they've tried to copy her state of mind, but grey, stained with madness and dirt. He wanted to scratch the germs out of it, to scratch it until she's satisfied, to scratch the dust until she finds her memory back. The dust ! The dust ! He needed to make it disappear, to clean it up, or it would cover her memories forever. But he couldn't. They were all looking at him, with their bald heads, their frantic eyes, the frowns on their face. He couldn't do it. They were watching. Ready to judge him. She was craning forward and looking at him with her big eyes, a word stuck in her throat. When she opened her mouth, he panicked and screamed, in an attempt to make her stop. She couldn't talk, she had to remain quiet, or something sharp, an explosion, a hurricane, an inondation, would happen. Someone should prevent it from happening, needed to watch everyone else's back; it was necessary to crush this hideous thing, this audacity that wanted to crawl out of her mouth, to smash it, to destroy it, to cut it into small pieces of dough, to malaxe it until there was only a grey powder left, to make it vanish into thin air. The only way to do so was to talk, again and again, without any break, even for a moment, even for a seconde, to overwhelm her in a stream of words, and she won't talk, she couldn't, he wouldn't allow it. She nodded, and only nodded, as if she could understand what he was saying, as if she could still understand who he was. He told her about the sun shining, the wardrobe that he fixed and which now looked absolutely awful, the beachvoley and the way she beat him all the time, the cheese he ate yesterday, and his gums were hurting him; but he couldn't stop, he couldn't let her talk, she'd hurt someone, oh she would ! He needed to handle her slowly, cautiously, with great care. But his fingers were shaking, she was too strong for him, he'd let go of her soon, it was too late, she'd escaped ! Tighten your grip !! No no ! She couldn't ! He was too weak, as always, he was aware of it, so weak, he just couldn't fight her anymore, he loved her too much to keep on struggling.   
As always.   
Her lips were moving, it was too late.  
"Who are you ? Where's my big baby ? Where is he ? Did you see him ? Are you going to find him ?"  
He knew it, he just knew she'd hurt someone.  
The walls weren't white and bright anymore, madness and dust were covering her mind.   
He has written everywhere on them with his nails, trying to wipe off the dirt, two little words.   
Remember me.   
She looked at the letters. Who wrote it, again ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, something with Balon or Euron...


	4. Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not in front of him, not again. You can't disappoint him this time, Theon, you need to show him how much of a Greyjoy you are.

No. Never again. Not in front of Him, especially not in front of Him. Fork, knife, spoon, all set. Look humble. Remain charming. Don't smile too much, don't talk too much. Don't mock any member of the family, don't try to be smart. Or they will know, they will know and come for him, they will sneer, they will point at him, they will consume him, they will consume him inch by inch. "He is not one of us, he is a felon, a traitor, not one of us." The song will go on, and on, and He will just sit here, approving their words, watching him dying. He needed to be good, to be perfect, to be manly, brave, to find the right anwers. "Don't be a lady". Well, he won't. Not in front of Him. Never again.   
He gives short answers, yes, no, maybe, I don't know; says common things, what a beautiful baby, it's cloudy outside isn't it, of course I like beers who doesn't, long time no see auntie; tries to show how much of a family member he is, yes I will become a soldier too, us Greyjoys we act we don't talk, well it's a fine shirt yes but I don't have any fashion sense I'm a boy you know; and he tries again. He watches Him all the time, wondering what He thinks, what He would say, what He would like him to say. I'm a Greyjoy, I do this, I do this, do I like this ? Well sure, I'm a Greyjoy. Does He see ? Does He hear ? Is He proud ? Look, I am a real member of our family, I don't speak too much or too loud, I stopped smiling like a condescending jerk, like You wanted !   
Obvisously, he couldn't keep things that way, he couldn't keep acting like someone he never would be. Of course, he would make a mistake, of course it would be his brother's fault, of course. He can't be a part of the family, it's written everywhere in his DNA, tatooed on his skin; it's like a brand, like an indelible stain on a shirt, you rub it, you scrub it, you wipe it, again and again, but it won't go away, it's worse than kraken ink, he will never be clean again. He screams, outraged, his new trousers, his brother has ruined his new trousers, his expensive new trousers, with disgusting beer, what a undeducated, messy asshole, die in hell you fucking brute of a soldier. Oh, no, what did he do, what did he do ? They can see, everyone can see, they laugh, it's like a cruel melody, and the look on their face, the way they twist their neck to observe him, to watch with glee the tears running down his cheeks; it's like a fatal dance. He is paralized and he lets them eat the meat of his weak bones, he can see himself, decaying slowly, hung to a tree, it's his fate, they will kill him. They will kill him, so he tries to call for help, "DAD DAD DAD HELP ME", but it's too late; He has left the room, leaving him alone with his humiliation, and won't help him, not today, not ever, as always. He had promised he would never do it, not in front of him, never in front of him, not again, but he doesn't know how to do something right. He did, in front of him, forever in front of him, and he stands here in the middle of the room, wipping his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey ! I am really sorry for the time I take to upload Our Stupid Fucks, but I swear some smut is about to be released soon ! Just wait for it ! Thanks for reading and have a good day. Remember I accept suggestions.


	5. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of rape, underage.  
IT is here everynight, and he can't sleep. Euron and Theon.

He spends his nights to wait for IT, his eyes opened wide, heart racing, stomach aching and vomit down his throat, knowing IT could be here at any time. Every time, he is wet with sweat, he is hot with anxiety, and his dry tongue is depraved of saliva; he can't even move, the rock in his belly is too heavy to do so. He does not shut his eyelides, he does not sleep: if he does, IT will do whatever IT wants to him. He is tired all the time and then everyone tries to tear him appart, "Wake the fuck up !" "You little piece of shit listen to me when I talk to you" "I think your son has a problem. He can't stay awake." "Stop sleeping little princess !" "You are a lost cause."; everyone thinks it is his fault, that he just decides not to sleep, they don't even try to understand what is going on, and he can not explain. It is so difficult and IT would know he told. They won't help him anyway. They won't help and IT would kill him. And now he is so tired that he does not even know if all of it is real.  
Suddenly, IT is here again, on top of him, and IT groans, and blood mixed up with spit stains his lips, and his right cheek. A wet, hot sensation everywhere, he tries to punch IT, but he is only a boy and IT looks like a giant. Krakens should not cry. He should not cry. Is he ? Or is it ITS saliva ? "Don't be so weak", I'm not, I swear, "You disappoint me son, stop crying", I try, but it hurts, why aren't you here, dad, tell IT to stop, please...Sadly, no one comes to save him. He waits until it's done, and cries until he finally sleeps. He would have to do like nothing happened. Tomorrow, he would have to walk as if everything's alright, while IT would look at him like a prey. IT would come to him, IT would take him in ITS arms, and dance with him every day and night. Soon, IT will go away, until IT comes back next year for three months. He should run away from here, before IT finds him again.  
"What is it, Little Theon, why are you crying ? Do you need uncle to help you sleep ?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahah...is it too dark ?


	6. Recess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone in the kennel, Theon remembers his mother's words and how it was to be naive. It feels cold.

She seems to know something, something dark and tragic, she always seems to know those sort of things. She holds him in her arms, against her small chest, and makes him shut his eyes. She knows something will happen, something always happen, and he doesn't understand what. He tries to ask, but she makes him quiet with a kiss on his cheek. 

It feels warm. 

"Hush now big baby, close your eyes."

And then she drives him to sleep, whispering praises and soothing words in his ears. 

"Don't always listen to your father, darling. He becomes angry too quickly. I find you amazing. Don't ever forget that." 

At this time, he was to young to understand, more concentrated on the way she smelled, drowning in her scent. Now, he does. She was trying to warn him, to make him aware of something horrible, something that was about to crush him soon. Life. Others. Opinions. And he had been to stupid to pay attention. To naive to even be prepared. 

"Don't let them hurt you, honey, don't even let them try. I'll always be there for you, wherever you are. Close your eyes, big baby, and sleep. It will be alright, I swear."  
Maybe he didn't understand, but nowadays it's the best memory he has. Anytime he would feel awful he would think of it. 

"Good night."

"Good night, mum...", he says, hoping she didn't forget about him, hoping she is feeling alright right now. 

And then he closes his eyes, and lays down on the dry straw of the kennel, lullabies on his mind and kisses on his cheek. 

It feels cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short but hope you like it ! 
> 
> I won't be uploading soon, I have important work to do ! Byyyye !


	7. You Have to Know Your Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon should have fucking known. (TW: Rape, Thramsay, Canon).

He sould have known it was too good to be true.  
He should have known sweet gifts come with great sacrifices. He should have known his hopes would be crushed, wiped off with acid, burned with the hot poker his master seemed to cherish as much as his pet, reduced near nothing by all the torture devices He owned.   
Maggots can be found in perfect apples.  
Sugar can rot your teeth.   
Grapefruit is bitter.   
He should have known it was too good to be true.   
When He offered him a bath and a soft bed, he should have remained guarded, he shouldn't have fallen asleep immediately. He should have used his head, his dumb, dull, fucking useless and tired mind. But what his stupid self did instead ? He slept, slept for hours, without even worrying about His evil plans.  
He should have known.   
His master was the kind of people who would love to see his prey dancing, dancing and dancing again, dancing from all the pain, dancing in agony, who would love to watch him dance without any break, who would order him to go faster and faster, to try again if a single move was wrong, to keep going for days, even if he was exhausted and on the verge of passing out. He would punish him for stumbling, even a little, He would hit him with a long whip, and force him to stand up and dance again. He would only stop when he was dying on the floor. Yes, that's something He would do.   
So why did he think he could have a break, away from the pain and away from any form of cruelty ?  
Of course something would happen.   
He should have known.   
It was burning and wet at the same time, and it was too much, far too much; He was there, shaking his body roughly, squeezing him harshly with those hands -since when were His hands so big, so powerful ? He kept on groaning words he couldn't even understand and He wouldn't be quiet, He was so loud he couldn't whisper any plead, he could barely breathe. His bruising grip was so tight he couldn't move either, he couldn't even push at His chest with his arms. He couldn't do anything but to watch Him getting larger and larger, rougher and rougher any second, as if he was turning into a gigantic beast.   
He should have known.   
Everything comes with a price. The iron price. He didn't pay the iron price. Was that it ? Did he just keep on making the same stupid mistake ? Maybe his master was only teaching him a lesson. You have to pay the fucking price. For the bath and the bed.   
Or maybe it was just to humiliate him. To see him cry and hurt.   
Anyway.   
He should have known.   
"You're mine, Reek. Don't ever forget it."  
He didn't say anything, because it was true. Theon Greyjoy would fight, struggle, open that big mouth he had. He couldn't be anything but Reek. He had been stupid to think otherwise earlier.   
And that too...  
...He should have fucking known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody ! It's me again ! Hope you like it I just wrote it ! Don't hesitate to send me prompts while I am lockdowned :D


	8. Good Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek experiences public humiliation for the first time, and Theon Greyjoy wants to see his audience dead.

He feels like a doll.  
It shouldn't happen to him. If his master's father was there, he would stop it: he would probably be disgusted by his son's cruel games. But it is only Him, the boys, the guests. A giant crowd. The feast looks like a huge sea of people. Maybe he would drown in it. He hopes so. It would be the best outcome he could have in this world. Drowning like a real ironborn. But you're not a lord anymore. You have to remember your name. It rhymes with meak. Meak, weak, Reek.  
He feels like a puppet.  
On display for everyone to see. Everyone, with their hungry eyes shining in the dark of the room. He could see the flames of the candles burning in their black pupils, he could feel their glances lingering on his mangled limbs.  
They could all help him. They could all save him. But he knows. He knows they won't. Some of them are as merciless as Him, enjoying the game, some of them consider he deserves what he gets. Others are too scared of his master, they do not dare to speak, happy not to be in his position. He understands, he can't blame them. But a little part of him is still furious, a small area of his brain wants to see them suffer as much as he does.  
And I am the coward...You'll all burn in hells with us. I hope you'll have nightmares after looking at my body. I hope you'll wake up vomiting, screaming, crying. I hope you'll be afraid He comes for you too. Bastards.  
There's still an hint of someone, someone who should have been gone for a long time now. It's dangerous to let him take the power of his mind.  
Shut up, shut up, you rhyme with damnation.  
He feels like a freak.  
Naked, his pale skin revealed, he shivers. He is cold, he is ashamed, he is angry. There remains a deafening silence. He should have forgotten all about self-awareness by now, but he still feels embarrassed. He wants to hide. He wants to run. He wants his master to take him back where he belongs: the dungeon, the kennel, the bath, His chamber, he wants to beg Him, "please please please, take me far away from them", he wants to stay with Him, together alone, forever. He looks up from the floor and sees his master's glance, burning ice meeting ocean waves. There is pride in His eyes. He is proud of his work, of the bruises and scars on his body, of his creature, He is proud of him.  
Good boy.  
He closes his eyelids, finally calm. He pleases him, everything's alright. Nothing else matters.  
He is a good boy.  
A good boy.  
Really Reek ? Then why do you wish you could kill them all ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ! Hope you enjoyed it !  
What should I do next ?
> 
> Have a nice day.


	9. Come Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chap 9- It's been years since he prevented himself from seeing Him, but today, Theon can't help it. He needs Ramsay back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it is taking me so long to post those days, but my sleep depraved brain can't do anything... This chapter was really difficult to write, it was painful and tiring. It's really intimate, it hits home...a little too much.

He knows he shouldn't. 

He knows. But he can't stop walking. It's as if parts of his brain are disagreeing, and one is winning over the other, taking control of his reluctant body. Those steps in the melting snow, tiring and sorrowful, create a path to an incoming pledge : this road is the promise of new kinds of pains, the promise of punishment and forgiveness, the promise of great danger. Danger he would have no choice but to accept. That's why he knows.

He knows he shouldn't. 

But he does anyway. He keeps on moving. He has to go there. His skin itches and he needs someone to scratch it, to open it, to search for the secrets hidden under his limbs. He craves for the pain to come again, yes, he craves for a guiding pain, that will keep him under control, that will prevent him from doing mistakes. Someone has to look after him, to wrap a firm grip around his throat, to make him behave. He wish he would be good, so good, he wish he could make someone proud again. He can't stay where nobody wants him... So he keeps on moving. That's why he does anyway.

He knows he shouldn't, but he does anyway.

He does hesitate though. Sometimes; he would turn back, and run as fast as possible, afraid of himself, afraid of who he will find there. He would fall on his knees and crash, snow and dirt mixing on his cheeks. The snow would melt as would his will to flee. Then, he would stand up, and would continue on the way, staggering. He keeps on moving. But he does hesitate. 

He reaches the house. The big house in the woods. There's only one house there. It's His. The sight only could make him cry. Cry in eagerness. Cry in distress. It looks like a huge, abandonned mansion, haunted of course, or it wouldn't be a great horror movie. He tries to spot the inside of the house throught the window, but it's so dark he can't see anything. For a moment, he wonders if the mansion really has been abandonned. Maybe He isn't here anymore, maybe He moved out, maybe he came all this way for nothing; after all it's been such a long time since he last saw Him. He can't even tell how many months. He feels his heart throbbing in his chest. HE has to be here ! He strokes the doorknob, still hesitating. He reaches the house. 

He knocks. 

He knows he shouldn't, but he does anyway.

He waits here, blood pulsating quicker than ever. In and out. He wants to knock again, he wants to knock endlessly, faster and faster, to alert someone of his presence. But He wouldn't like that, so he doesn't. He just waits here. 

The front door opens. HE looks older. He doesn't remember seeing Him with such a beard before -He used to shave regularly; but then again, it's been a few years. He doesn't know why he is so startled by the change, or why he doesn't drop to his knees begging for forgiveness. He is surprisingly calm, all of a sudden, as if he finally found the person that would make him feel good. Which is silly, of course: he already knows Him, He is unable to make anyone feel good. He has so many questions, so many -why did you do that to me, why me, why do I need you, why do you make me feel this way, did they make you change, how many pills did they give you, do you forgive me ?; but he doesn't say a word. He feels so stupid. He knows he shouldn't have done it. But he had anyway. And now, the front door opens. 

Time seems to stand still. HE scans his body with his bright blue eyes, face going blank. HE used to do that all the time when feeling something too extreme, even for Him. This was scarier than any other expressions. He gulped down his saliva, heart racing. Time seems to stand still. 

"Come inside", He says finally, gesturing toward the entrance.

He knows he shouldn't, but he does anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> So I hope you enjoyed this peculiar style of writing, which is one of my favorite by far. I already have two other OSs in mind, and a few ideas, but if you have some ideas too don't hesitate to share them (even if I can't assure you I will do it). See you soon !


End file.
